


endless, the avarice

by SerpentineJ



Category: Money Game (Korea TV)
Genre: Heo Jae Didn't Kill Anyone AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23037862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerpentineJ/pseuds/SerpentineJ
Summary: “Is it because of Heo Jae?” Eugene says, and Yihyun stiffens. Eugene’s eyes light up, and a flush of anger spreads up Yihyun’s neck, though he’s not sure why.“The DPM,” Yihyun says, putting emphasis on the title, glaring at Eugene, “has nothing to do with it.”“Ah, don’t be like that.” Eugene replies. He’s acting like he’s stumbled across something truly interesting. “You don’t like that he plays favorites. That’s funny.” He glances up Yihyun’s form once, assessing, in a way that’s meant to be provocative, the crooked smile never leaving his lips. “I didn’t think you were his dog.”
Relationships: Heo Jae/Chae Yihyun
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	endless, the avarice

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: the idea of yihyun sometimes being more forward than heo jae .. im SO engrossed  
> me: constantly caught btwn concepts of yihyun oblivious to how much heo jae likes him and proactive yihyun
> 
> consider this an au where heo jae didnt fucking kill yihyuns dad bc i could not fucking come up with an ending where heo jae reciprocated yihyuns advances while knowing he killed his dad ! and frankly i need to recover from that finale so im finally posting this !
> 
> title from ost song no. 1, fallin’!

The issue of Eugene Han hangs over Yihyun’s head.

“I hope we’ll work well together, Deputy Prime Minister,” Eugene says, that slimy smile on his face, holding onto Heo Jae’s hand for a little longer than necessary. His gaze flicks behind Heo Jae’s shoulder, to Yihyun standing just behind him, stony-faced. Amusement passes over his handsome features, a sunbeam across a mellow field – it makes Yihyun’s blood start to bubble.

“We’ll see.” Heo Jae says. His tone is clipped but professional. He doesn’t drop Eugene’s hand – he shows no signs of weakness. 

They bow to each other in the elevator as Eugene leaves.

“We can’t trust him,” Yihyun says immediately, his brow creased, an air of dissatisfaction rolling off him like thunderclouds, lightning crackling from his skin. He turns an imploring gaze on Heo Jae. “He’s already betrayed us so many times. Why do you think-“

Heo Jae looks at him. It’s a sharp glance that, at the sight of Yihyun’s tension, his bunched up shoulders and taut fingers, softens. 

“I know.” He says. “He has ulterior motives, and our economic plan will eventually hurt Bahama.”

Yihyun moves a step closer.

“Deputy Prime Minister,” he says, the polite title at extreme odds with the way he says it, a black familiarity he can’t seem to reel in. “I think you’re still being too lenient with him.”

Heo Jae looks up at him. At this proximity, their height difference is a little more apparent, made all the more severe by Yihyun’s looming build and Heo Jae’s slight slouch. Heo Jae faces him with an indescribable look on his face – vague interest, and a facsimile of control.

“Why are you so fixated on Eugene Han?” He asks, his voice pitching a little like it does when he’s redirecting the conversation. An unfamiliar feeling swirls in Yihyun’s gut. It has the taste of determination dripping with black tar. Yihyun unwinds his fingers, and locks down his breathing, and slows his racing heartbeat.

He’s not angry. Why would he be angry?

“It’s nothing.” He says, reeling himself back in like a cassette tape, scraggly strips of messy black film disappearing into his chest. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn.”

Heo Jae looks almost disappointed.

\--

Yihyun doesn’t usually drink by himself. His apartment is still a mess. He does nothing to rectify it, slinging his suit jacket casually over the desk, letting the vestiges of today’s frustration come out in the way he yanks at the knot of his tie. He’s used to suits, but his collar feels biting at his throat.

He turns the television on when he sits down on his couch with a microwaved convenience store meal. Eugene Han’s face is splashed across the news. The photos show him wining and dining a gaggle of middle-aged men who look like they could be from the Assembly. 

Yihyun feels bile roil in his stomach. He turns the television off.

Cold soju burns against his throat.

\--

“Come in,” Heo Jae says, opening his apartment door. Yihyun inclines his head and steps over the threshold. There’s a pair of slippers in the entryway – they don’t look like they’ve ever been used, and Yihyun remembers there not being any guest slippers the last time he had visited, unexpectedly.

The slippers are an eggshell beige. It matches the rest of Heo Jae’s apartment. The simple, dimly-lit living area, warm taupes with accents of natural wood, is impersonal and inviting at the same time. In contrast to Yihyun’s open, airy apartment, tall windows letting sunlight stream into the entire space and illuminating the white walls, Heo Jae’s area is like his life – intimate and deeply private.

Eugene Han probably fits Heo Jae’s aesthetic better, Yihyun thinks mulishly, shrugging off his jacket. Heo Jae takes it from him and hangs it in his coat closet. Another dissimilarity from last time – then again, this time he’s been invited, even if it’s for work.

There’s a few stacks of papers on Heo Jae’s coffee table. It’s their objective for tonight. 

“I wondered why you invited me here, instead of meeting at the office,” Yihyun says, taking a seat on the outer-facing side of the coffee table where Heo Jae indicates. “But this is too many papers to move by yourself.”

He gets the feeling that Heo Jae’s eyes linger on him for a moment, but it disappears after a breath.

Heo Jae sets two water bottles on the table out of politeness. They mostly work in silence, reading reports and filling out forms, Yihyun passing over anything that needs the DPM’s signature – it’s oddly comfortable, as though they’ve worked together like this before. 

At some point, Heo Jae stands up and moves to the kitchen. Yihyun hears the click of an electric kettle switching on, and the clink of ceramic against the countertop – he must be making tea. Yihyun doesn’t say anything. Heo Jae’s phone, on the table, begins to buzz.

Against his better nature, he glances at it.

The caller ID is listed as Eugene – Eugene, and nothing else. Not Eugene Han, or Bahama Branch Manager Eugene Han. Yihyun’s gaze flicks from the phone to the table and back before he raises his head.

“Sir,” he says, forcing politeness into his tone. “Your phone is ringing.”

“Who is it?” Heo Jae says, not looking back, still fixing tea.

“Bahama,” Yihyun all but bites out.

Heo Jae stills for a moment. His hands stop in the middle of scooping tea leaves.

“Answer it.” He says, after a moment. “Tell him I’ll be there momentarily.”

Yihyun doesn’t particularly dislike being told what to do – if it were anyone other than Eugene Han, he would follow the order without a second thought. But it is him. He hesitates before picking up the phone.

“I know I shouldn’t be calling,” Eugene says, before Yihyun can even announce himself, “but I wanted to ask you something.”

“This is Chae Yihyun,” Yihyun says. He gets a vindictive kind of satisfaction from Eugene’s silent pause on the other end. “DPM Heo will be at the phone in a moment.”

“Oh.” Eugene says, as though he’s been offered a particularly interesting piece of new information. That’s one thing Yihyun hates about Eugene – no matter what situation he’s in, the slippery bastard has a way of coming out on top. Every scrap of knowledge is a weapon to him. “You two must be close.”

Yihyun half-chuckles. He’s not particularly amused. 

Heo Jae suddenly appears at his side. He sets one teacup at Yihyun’s elbow and holds out his hand for the phone – Yihyun hands it to him, watching as he puts it to his ear and walks away again, returning to the kitchen.

“I told you not to call.” Heo Jae says, his tone neutral. Yihyun doesn’t know what Eugene says in response. Heo Jae glances one more time back at Yihyun, then turns away, so he can’t see his face.

Yihyun, as a person of moral character, doesn’t eavesdrop. No matter how much he wants to. His curiosity and something else burns in his stomach long after the call ends. 

\--

He catches Eugene hanging around the MOEF office again. He’s acting uncharacteristically shy, puttering around the entrance. He doesn’t see Yihyun come out of the elevator.

“What are you doing?” Yihyun says.

Eugene spins around to look at him.

“Nothing,” he replies, sticking his hands in his pockets. Yihyun’s first impression of Eugene had been of a big cat, heavy and sleek and dangerous, but there’s a childish side to him that puts Yihyun on edge. It might be related to his interest in Lee Hyejoon.

Yihyun frowns at him.

“It doesn’t look like nothing.” He says, his tone clipped and polite. “Was there something you needed?”

Eugene fiddles with the pocket of his thick gray coat. The wool looks plush and luxurious. His handsome face catches the light from the office, shapely planes of his long jaw cutting even in the unflattering fluorescence of the hallway.

Is he Heo Jae’s type? The question floats up through Yihyun’s cerebellum and takes root before he can stop it. It digs into his brain, spreading poison.

He remembers when he had walked in on them, at their poolside table at Namsan Hotel. Red wine and soprano singers. Eugene leaning over the table, his beady black eyes alight, while Heo Jae hadn’t moved away.

“If you’re only here to test the limits of Lee Hyejoon’s patience,” Yihyun says, pulling himself out of it, redirecting his energy, “then I’ll have to ask security to escort you out.”

“Security?” Eugene says, laughing. “You guys have security?”

“This is a government building.” Yihyun says.

“Right, right.” Eugene replies, that obliging smile on his face that Yihyun hates. He turns down the hallway, all traces of his previous insecurity vanished like wisps of mist in blazing sun – then pauses, cocks his head and turns back around.

Yihyun raises his eyebrows.

“You seem,” Eugene says, walking back up to him, his footsteps quick and sure, a cat who’s caught a new scent, “irritated.”

“Am I supposed to be ecstatic to see you?” Yihyun says, almost letting his tone slip into derisiveness. Only a lifetime’s worth of a wealthy family’s propriety training holds him back.

“No, but why do you hate me so much?” Eugene asks, as though he’s genuinely curious.

“Is assaulting one of my subordinates not enough for you?” Yihyun bites out.

Eugene stops – a flicker of something shadows his expression for a moment. Regret, almost. It makes him seem human. Yihyun feels sick.

“Mm.” He says, after a pause, collecting himself. “But aside from that.”

“What makes you think there’s something else?” Yihyun says. He folds his arms across his chest, his broad shoulders making an imposing line in his navy blazer.

Eugene cocks his head.

“I’m good at reading people,” he says, with a smirk. Yihyun wants to deck him. 

“Well, apparently not in this case.” Yihyun says, slipping his hand in his pocket, genuinely considering calling security to escort an unauthorized person off the premises. Knowing Eugene, he would just claim he had a meeting, but it would be worth it to see him waste his time.

“Is it because of Heo Jae?” Eugene says, and Yihyun stiffens. Eugene’s eyes light up, and a flush of anger spreads up Yihyun’s neck, though he’s not sure why. 

“The DPM,” Yihyun says, putting emphasis on the title, glaring at Eugene, “has nothing to do with it.”

“Ah, don’t be like that.” Eugene replies. He’s acting like he’s stumbled across something truly interesting. “You don’t like that he plays favorites. That’s funny.” He glances up Yihyun’s form once, assessing, in a way that’s meant to be provocative, the crooked smile never leaving his lips. “I didn’t think you were his dog.”

Yihyun bristles.

“Shut your mouth,” he says, taking a step forward, hating when Eugene only looks at him with a mildly amused expression – 

“Is there a problem?” A voice says.

He stops in his tracks. Yihyun looks up, surprised. Heo Jae is standing near the elevators, a leather portfolio in hand. Eugene cranes his neck around.

“Mm.” Eugene says, looking back towards Yihyun, who’s only a few steps away from him. “Is there? A problem, I mean?”

Yihyun fees his face going pink. He steps back and reels himself back in. 

“No.” He says, staring at Eugene, letting his hands fall loosely to his sides. “It’s nothing.”

He starts to turn on his heel, too embarrassed to stay and bear their speculative gazes.

“Director Chae,” Heo Jae says, calling after him. “I need to see you.”

Yihyun forces himself to stop at the entry to the MOEF office. He looks away from his reflection in the glass doors and inclines his head, waiting silently for Heo Jae to lead the way to his office, as an inferior officer should do.

He’s expected Heo Jae to stop to chat with Eugene – he doesn’t, instead brushing past him with a glance, his feet bringing him surely to Yihyun’s office. 

Yihyun casts one last suspicious look at Eugene. 

Eugene grins at him.

\--

“You seem irritated,” Heo Jae says, his lazy stride taking him up to Yihyun’s desk, not looking at him. Yihyun closes the door behind him and tries to cool the blood running hot through his body. 

“It’s nothing.” Yihyun says, deferential. He doesn’t walk around to his desk – instead, he approaches Heo Jae, slowly, his hands folded in front of him. “Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

The shutters to Yihyun’s office are shut. With the door closed, even though they’re in an office full of other people, it feels like just the two of them in the small space.

“Just the upcoming currency exchange operation.” Heo Jae says, although he doesn’t seem too interested in it. Yihyun frowns. They had already worked out the details in a previous meeting. “Why was Eugene Han here?”

Yihyun scowls.

“To spy on Lee Hyejoon, I assumed.” He says, an almost petty tone infusing his voice. Heo Jae turns to look at him – he looks oddly pleased, as though Yihyun’s frustration is comforting to him. 

“Are you concerned about him?” He says.

Yihyun presses his lips together. He’s trying to hold onto his sense of decorum, but Eugene Han riles him up for more reasons than he’d like to admit. 

“I’ve told you what I think of him,” he says, clipped and quiet – Heo Jae cocks his head at him, and Yihyun feels like he’s being considered, Heo Jae’s light gaze on him making him clench his jaw.

“But you haven’t told me why you hate him so much.” Heo Jae replies. He’s leaning back against Yihyun’s desk. 

“I’ve made my reasons plenty clear!” Yihyun says, unable to keep his voice from rising a little, pitching in that way he hates, the way it does when his control slips away from him. “He’s not interested in the greater good at all! He’s just waiting for the next chance to destroy the Korean economy for his own benefit.”

He doesn’t even notice he’s stepped forward, the quiet tapping of his shoes against the linoleum flooring obscured by his echoing voice, until he’s less than an arm’s length from Heo Jae, bottled frustration threatening to spill out of him – and he’s frustrated for more reasons than that, he realizes, because it’s suddenly of critical importance to make sure Heo Jae understands how much of a threat Eugene poses. Heo Jae specifically.

Eugene’s voice echoes in his head. You don’t like how he plays favorites, he had said, and Yihyun almost crumbles under the terrible realization.

Heo Jae can’t seem to keep the half-smile off his face.

Yihyun backs away.

“I-“ He gets out, a sudden pressure on his chest threatening to crush his fragile, black heart. “I apologize for the outburst.”

“You don’t have to apologize for anything.” Heo Jae says, his eyes a little too expectant, a shade too dark. “Tell me.”

Yihyun swallows past the lump in his throat. Thank God his office is soundproof.

“I...” He gets out, voice suddenly hoarse, every nerve in his body sparking like electricity, feelings that he didnt even know he had rushing through him like a typhoon, their violent swells battering the cage of his heart. “I think you’re too lenient with him. And I don’t like you letting him get away with it.”

“With what?” Heo Jae says, smiling.

It reminds Yihyun of the Namsan Hotel, except he’s about to throw himself into the fray. The gray, stormy salt-air of dangerous waters swirls around him, cold wind biting through his coat, a spray of seawater chill and harsh on his skin – he steps forward, once, into the tumultuous sea, as Heo Jae looks expectantly at him.

“With being close to you.” Yihyun says, quietly, so close he could reach out and touch Heo Jae. Unlike the turbulent tides of his emotions, the office is warm and dry. Yihyun can barely hear the bustle of the busy office outside. His entire focus has narrowed down to Heo Jae in front of him, and the wild, conflicting, uncontrollable feelings that he can’t hold back anymore – frustration, attraction, trust and distrust, a magnetic obsession that sends him spinning out of control.

His heart pounds in his chest. Adrenaline seeps through his bones. His eyes slip from the knot of Heo Jae’s grey-blue necktie up to his face. 

Heo Jae opens his mouth –

There’s a knock at the door.

Yihyun all but jumps backwards like he’s been caught committing a crime. Heo Jae watches as his face turns red – within a moment, Yihyun has reverted to his usual self, paradoxically polite and innocent. He doesn’t make eye contact with Heo Jae as he turns around and looks to the door.

“Come in,” he says, clearing his throat.

“Director Chae?” One of the MOEF analysts is there, file in hand. “This is the report on the currency exchange operation you asked for earlier.” He sees Heo Jae in the office and balks. It would be funny, if Yihyun weren’t in shambles. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt-“

“It’s fine.” Yihyun gets out, walking to the door and taking the report. “The DPM was just leaving.”

Heo Jae looks at him. Yihyun, shame spreading through his body, doesn’t meet his eye – he keeps his head inclined, so Heo Jae has no choice but to oblige.

“I’ll see you later.” He says, buttoning his coat and leaving the room.

The analyst shuts the door.

Yihyun stands alone in his office and feels like he can’t breathe.

\--

His father had always taught him to develop his thoughts while alone. Yihyun sits at his newly-cleared desk, the curtains of his apartment drawn shut, obscuring his view of the city, all of the lights off except the dim, warm glow of his reading lamp. His bubbling emotions begin to take shape against his consciousness, like strips of film coming to life in a darkroom.

He would have thought Eugene would be at the forefront, considering he’s the main source of Yihyun’s stresses, but it’s Heo Jae who comes to mind first. He doesn’t know whether to trust him or hate him. What he does know is that, oddly, he likes it when the DPM’s attention is on him.

Yihyun has the feeling that if they hadn’t been interrupted earlier, in his office, he would have done something utterly inappropriate.

He wonders where Heo Jae is now. The image of him and Eugene Han drinking red wine poolside at the Namsan Hotel rises in front of him again, and he pushes it away.

His doorbell rings.

He hasn’t ordered delivery. Even across the room, the glow of the door camera monitor shows clearly that his visitor is a man in a checkered gray overcoat.

Yihyun’s heart leaps into his throat.

“Deputy prime minister,” he says, opening the door, trying not to show how his pulse is already hammering against the inside of his skin. “Was there something you needed?”

Heo Jae looks at him. It’s an expression that makes Yihyun’s stomach flip-flop, because he can read most of Heo Jae’s faces, but this one remains a mystery to him. He almost looks fond. He looks like there’s nothing he’d rather be looking at in this moment than Yihyun.

But that can’t possibly be right.

“Eugene Han came to see me,” he says, letting himself in. Yihyun moves out of the way as he steps over the threshold. 

“This late at night?” Yihyun replies, keeping his voice neutral. He doesn’t know why Heo Jae would come here, at this time, to talk about Eugene when Yihyun had so nearly lost his temper earlier that day. Unless it’s for the reason he hates that he’s hoping for.

Heo Jae takes Yihyun’s guest slippers, as though he’s planning on staying for a while. Yihyun doesn’t make a habit of letting other people into his home – it’s really mostly just a place for him to sleep, and keep his things, and do late-night or early-morning work – but Heo Jae smoothly intrudes on his solitude like it’s nothing.

Yihyun follows him to the kitchen. Heo Jae is looking at his apartment – thankfully cleaner than the last time he’d seen it – with an odd expression.

“Don’t you have anything besides beer and cereal?” Heo Jae asks.

“Uh.” Yihyun says, shuffling to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. “Sorry. This is all I can offer, unless you want a drink.”

“We never finished our conversation.” Heo Jae says, coming around Yihyun’s kitchen table, leaning against the edge, folding his arms. Yihyun stumbles to keep up with his train of thought.

“Which one?” He says.

“About Eugene Han.” Heo Jae says.

“Deputy prime minister.” Yihyun says, crossing his arms across his chest. He’d had one drink, earlier – not enough to inebriate him by any means, but enough to loosen his inhibitions. “I don’t know what else you want me to say on the matter.”

“Are you jealous of him?” Heo Jae says, smiling. Yihyun stiffens.

“I don’t know what gave you that idea.” He bites out.

“It was only a thought.” Heo Jae says, watching him from the side of his field of vision. 

Yihyun doesn’t particularly enjoy playing games. It’s an occupational hazard, but he has the feeling that this is something beyond just work.

“I should be asking you what you think of him.” He says, redirecting the conversation, his gaze fixed on Heo Jae’s face. If it’s not about work, then he’s not the subordinate – they’re standing on equal ground. “You’ve heard my thoughts already.”

“About Eugene Han?” Heo Jae says, tapping his finger against the crook of his elbow. He turns his head, as though he doesn’t know what Yihyun is asking. It’s infuriating. “Should I think about him at all?”

“Deputy prime minister.” Yihyun says, stepping forward once, his weight heavy in the balls of his feet. He hadn’t thought the one drink he’d indulged in earlier would put him this off-kilter, but it’s been an emotionally charged day already – he can feel his heart pumping in his chest. 

“I’m not sure what you want me to say.” Heo Jae says, almost goading, inviting Yihyun to put his rising sick-feeling of what he now knows is jealousy to action, as though he wants him to. 

Yihyun feels the pressure on his chest crushing him.

“How much?” He says, his blood blazing in his veins, combustible oxygen pumped through his body at double-speed by his racing pulse. The rough, black words are falling out of his mouth before he can get ahold of himself. He barely even notices he’s moving into Heo Jae’s space, just like the time in his office. The soles of his slippers scratch against his polished floor. “How much do you think of him?”

Through all of it, even though he’s almost overtaken by the choking sensation in his throat, the magnetic pull of all five of his senses towards Heo Jae, he doesn’t once touch him. He’s close enough that Heo Jae could feel his breath if he exhaled. His fingers twitch by his side.

Heo Jae looks alive. His expression is impossibly pleased in the fond slant of his mouth. His eyes crinkle like he’s completely happy.

“I don’t think of him,” Heo Jae says, “half as much as I think of you,” and his fingers slide impeccably around Yihyun’s elbow – at the barest touch, Yihyun’s reserve breaks, like a dam trying to hold back the ocean. He races forward with the foaming break of the tide, and presses his mouth to Heo Jae’s. 

It’s completely inappropriate. Yihyun doesn’t know he’s doing it until he does, just a shade shy of harsh, crushing his lips against Heo Jae’s as though he never wants to breathe again in his life.

Heo Jae smiles against him like he’d be okay with drowning.

Yihyun presses Heo Jae bodily against the table, his hand coming up to grip the other man’s shoulder and hold him – Heo Jae’s fingers slide to cup his cheek, clear desire written in his motions in some kind of miracle. He can’t think of consequences right now. Heo Jae’s hands are pulling him closer. 

After a while, a moment that feels like an eternity, dizzy from lack of oxygen, they break apart. 

Yihyun has barely looked at anyone since his divorce. Even then, he had only gotten married to appease his father, and that’s why it had fallen apart so quickly. Heo Jae’s eyes, brilliantly dark and alight with barely-tempered satisfaction, make every prior experience of Yihyun’s pale by comparison.

He frowns.

“Were you testing me?” Yihyun says, his sudden contentedness overpowering the creeping awkwardness starting to seep into his body. He doesn’t move away from Heo Jae. Not that Heo Jae seems to have any complaints.

“No.” Heo Jae says, looking like the cat who got the cream.

Yihyun starts to pull away.

“Okay, maybe a little.” Heo Jae says, grabbing at his arm. Yihyun laughs before he knows he’s doing it. For some reason he suddenly feels lighter. The worries that had been eating at him have evaporated.

“This isn’t good,” Yihyun says, the warmth of Heo Jae’s thick woolen coat convincing him not to pull away. “The MOEF-“

“Enough about the MOEF.” Heo Jae says, which is very unlike him. Yihyun looks at him, surprised.

“I thought all you cared about was work.” He says, not resisting when Heo Jae pulls him closer, seemingly eager to not let go now that he has permission to touch.

“Maybe things are a little different now.” Heo Jae says, sounding, for the first time in a while, like things are looking up. 

\--

It’s not a completely happy ending. 

With their respective positions at work, and Heo Jae’s public-facing role, they can never be public. They still fight about the economy. They still keep their separate apartments. Eugene Han is still a thorn in Yihyun’s side.

But there are good things.

“Where are you going?” Heo Jae yawns, sitting up in bed. They’re at Heo Jae’s apartment. The sun hasn’t even come up outside. The entire room is sunken in an inky, muted almost-blackness. He can see Yihyun’s outline shuffling around the room.

Yihyun looks around.

“Sorry for waking you,” he whispers. “I have a meeting.”

“Mm.” Heo Jae says quietly, leaning back against the headboard, sinking into his pillow. “The... FSC?”

“Yeah. I need to drive out to talk to one of their experts in the sattelite offices. I’m already going to be late.” Yihyun says. He pulls on his socks in the darkness. His tie is stuffed in his pocket, because he can’t tie the knot in the dark. “Go back to sleep.”

“Make sure you ask them about the plans for restructuring...” Heo Jae mumbles, trailing off. Yihyun laughs.

“You think I would forget?” He says, making his way to Heo Jae’s side of the bed. He fixes his shirt cuff and drops a hasty kiss onto Heo Jae’s forehead. “See you later.”

“Drive safe,” Heo Jae says, his lips curling in a fond, sleepy smile in the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: man ............. i started writing this like a normal edgy money game fic but i havent been able to stop thinking abt normal domestic heochae for like the past week so thats where those last 1.5 scenes came from
> 
> that finale made me cry for 20 straight minutes ....
> 
> twitter serpentinej tumblr leofemt


End file.
